


Basalt

by Anonymous



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, kudos to those who understand how I got the title, not that it's hard to figure out, speculative meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 16:57:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11422230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: speculative meta in fic form, takes place after Bruce returns from being lost in time, focuses on psychology of the traumatized child, probably considered sad





	Basalt

Damian likes it black and white, cut and dry.

He prefers seeing that way. He prefers feeling that way. He prefers killing that way (although that would not get him any points, it seems). He does not like the mix of emotions inside, seething, squishing, screaming. It is…messy. And for a man so focused on action (and he is a man, truly), he did not have the time or the will to invest the time to untangle the mess inside. So he lies to himself. He slams the dark forces inside, sobbing and oozing and weeping, and locks the trapdoor underneath him. Steps on it, to make sure nothing gets out.

But sometimes, things do.

Damian does not think highly of himself, in the way most men do. He is a man of action, and he prides himself on his quick fingers, his crushing blows. The way his tongue can lash as any whip is able, planting seeds of doubt. Part of the battle, his mother told him, is psychological.

Psychological.

He would be more accepting of the idea if it hadn’t appeared as a double-edged sword in his life. He had used it as a tool before, not really considering its consequences. He was a man of action, he did not consider the consequences. At least, in regards to other people.

But now it has come back around. That karma so often spoken of in a blasé manner, it attacks with a vengeance.

His father doesn’t trust him.

Understandable, to be sure. He wouldn’t be Batman if he didn’t. But Bruce is not just Batman. Damian knows that now, after Grayson’s stories. After Grayson’s laughter, his clenched jaw to stave off grief.

So Bruce is not just Batman, is not just Father. He is a man. A man who values action, not petty words. Damian is a man of action. He turned his back on his mother, on his upbringing. He has not brought mortal blood on his hands. He has changed.

Then why.

Damian closes his eyes.

Why does his Father refuse him?

He does not require the man’s affection, merely his acceptance. But Damian wants his affection, now that he knows that it exists. He is propelled by greed. He is reminded of his toddler days when his mother slapped away his hands from the figs and dates. He wanted it all.

He wants it all.

But it seems apparent that he cannot have it all.

This is not right. It does not work like this. Damian likes it black and white, cut and dry. Damian is a man of action. He deserves what he worked for. He deserves it! Why is that man–a man parading under the name of Father–stubbornly refusing to give what is rightfully his?

It’s his, his, HIS! He labored under the law, lowered his head for his supper. He…changed himself. He did not unbolt the door, per se, but changed the lock. He understood, now. He understood.

Why will Father not understand?

“Damian.”

The word–harsh, deep, cold–breaks the boy out of his reverie.

Damian lifts his eyes away from the window, zeroing into his father’s face without really seeing anything.

Bruce is on the defensive, skirting the bedframe delicately. “I said, what are you doing in here?”

Here. Todd’s room. The room of a failure. The room of the one Father–Bruce–loves the most. Still. Despite all Todd has done, his father loves him still.

“I’m,” Damian says brusquely, laying his hand on the dresser, noticing Bruce’s near-imperceptible wince, “gaining perspective.”

Bruce narrows his eyes. “You know you’re not allowed in here,” he begins, slightly hoarse.

“Am I not?” Damian interrupts. “There was no discussion regarding it.”

“The room is locked.”

“So is yours.”

Bruce doesn’t respond to this.

Damian likes it black and white, cut and dry. He prefers it that way. So it stands to reason that something–someone–who challenges that, who reaches down into the trapdoor, weaving through until the dark force is found and _yanks_ it–well. It’s not unreasonable that it would anger him.

And he is. Angry.

For all he has done, for all he has worked for…and still. Nothing.

Bruce is looking down at him.

Damian fiddles with a discarded CD, carefully preserved with dust. He is a man of action. A man of method. He likes it cut and dry. So it stands to reason that the balance must be adjusted.

(You hurt me, I hurt you).

Damian looks over his shoulder, face impassive.

Bruce’s eyes widen with knowledge. “Damian,” he barks, hand outstretched–

_Snap!_

Damian brushes his hands of the CD remnants, glittering bits meshing with dust. “An eye for an eye,” he muses. He meets Bruce’s face. Bruce is already moving, form filled with icy outrage. He’ll be expelled in a moment, no doubt. Perhaps it’s one of those cold times, wherein Bruce will merely gaze at him with disgust and remove himself from the boy’s presence. Or maybe, hopefully, it will the fire times, where Bruce will yell at him, big booming voice filling the room. Those times, the fire times, Damian can at least look at him and pretend.

Ah, well. It doesn’t matter. Damian is a man of action.

“A tooth for a tooth,” he murmurs, allowing his arm to be grasped.

There are worst things in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of the grieving process; denial, anger, depression, acceptance–not necessarily in that order.
> 
> Damian has an internal “system” that dictates his actions. He reasons that his actions–no matter how irrational and actually explosive–make sense because of this “balance.” Bruce hurts him, he hurts Bruce. It’s only fair. It’s not right that Bruce has this power of him, has the one thing that makes him feel vulnerable and broken. So Damian will grasp at whatever he can to fill that gap, and hurt Bruce in turn. He’d rather receive affection, he wants affection–but if he can’t have that, at least he’ll get some of his own back.
> 
> Bruce, of course, has no idea about any of this and is like “this goddamn crazy kid has the devil in him” but also so at odds with himself because Damian is his son, his _son_ , and he wants to love him but he can’t broker this relationship that Damian apparently already knows the ins and outs of. It’s the same problem they run into every time. Damian has a preconceived notion of his father, and reasons he’ll fit into that preconceived father’s world. But Bruce doesn’t know Damian, and can’t integrate him into his life, resulting in explosive reactions from both.
> 
> Happy Thursday.


End file.
